


Kingsfoil

by Daerwyn



Series: A Collection of Drabbles by Helmaninquiel [19]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Fatherly Love, platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 23:04:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5108867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daerwyn/pseuds/Daerwyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine if Gandalf found a baby elf and brought them to the Company, only for the baby to take an instant liking to Thorin and cling to him.</p><p>Celebrating 100 Followers on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kingsfoil

Gandalf had not even made it three words into his explanation when Thorin broke in sharply. “I will not have it, Gandalf. You will find another place for her. This quest is no place for a child – and least of all an elf.”

But Gandalf’s grip on the horses reigns that held the girl up was not giving into the dwarven king. “She will only ride with us until we reach near Rivendell, where then I will bring her to the gates of Lord Elrond and he will decide where she will go.”

Thorin glanced to the vibrant blonde girl. “She’s but an infant, Gandalf. I will not have her come along and get killed on this quest.”

“I am not asking your permission. It was I who signed you up for this quest, Thorin Oakenshield, and I who picked the Company. If I say that an elfling will accompany us for a few hundred miles, then I will have that be done. To leave her to the elements would be a sure death sentence.”

Thorin glanced away from the blonde girl that looked to be no older than a toddler in human standards, meeting Gandalf’s eye. “She is to stay with you. I will not be responsible for her.”

“Understood.” Thorin would not be responsible for any elf.

She was quiet, and did not even give a name as she stuck with Gandalf. But when the rains began to pour, not even the wizard’s magic could keep her happy. And though she did not cry, nor demand anything other than some food every once in a while – in the form of a quiet whisper to the wizard that spoke her tongue – she had tears in her eyes as she shivered in the rain.

As they made camp in the trees, providing them some shelter, Thorin watched as Gandalf helped her down from the horse, and she stood in the muddy ground, barefoot as no one had shoes for her, and let out a quiet sigh, before she went back to hugging her arms to her body, as if she were cold.

Elves did not get cold, so she must have just felt uncomfortable. Either way, Thorin reminded himself he shouldn’t care. She was just a good traveller, that was all. She didn’t make mention of home, she didn’t talk about regrets. She didn’t talk.

She tugged on Gandalf’s robe, and he pulled a small spare blanket out of a horse satchel for her, and she took it in her tiny hands, holding it tightly to her body, before she began to pick up sticks. Thorin watched her out of the corner of his eye as he laid down his bedroll by where Oin was building a fire.

“Fili, Dwalin, you have first watch,” Thorin instructed. “After you, it’s Bifur and Gloin.”

“Aye,” Dwalin grunted, tying his pony to a tree before he clapped Fili on the shoulder and they went off together in the woods. Thorin waited until the fire was successfully started, with some help from Gandalf, before he sat on his bedroll and pulled off his boots. He laid back, closing his eyes.

The soft sound of leaves crunching reached his ears as everyone got settled, and then he heard the sounds coming towards him. He kept his eyes closed, unsure who it was exactly. If it was Kili, he was sure to be the one to remind his nephew that he was too young to be along on this trip in the first place. And he only came because Dis had insisted. The woman was barmy.

But suddenly a light weight pressed at Thorin’s side, and Thorin hesitated a moment, and the feeling happened again. Opening one eye, he saw the little blonde girl chewing on her lip as he looked at her.

“Yes?” Thorin asked carefully. She opened her mouth like she was going to speak, but thought better of it, frowning instead as she looked down at her hands. And then she seemed to be struck with an idea, because she smiled at him brightly, letting Thorin see that she had two dimples in her cheeks. And she pointed to the boots at the base of the bedroll. And then pointed a few feet away where a few sticks were sticking out of the ground, and her blanket was draped overtop them.

She had made herself a tent. Thorin blinked back his surprise, before trying to understand what the girl could possibly want with his shoes. “What do you need them for?” Thorin muttered gruffly.

She seemed to understand what he was asking, as she ran to her fort in the pouring rain, and patted the ground with the palm of her hand, before she rushed back. He didn’t understand. But he gave a slow nod, too tired and achey to really care what she did with them. They were already soaked through and worn from the travels so far. But she gave him a bright smile, before she grabbed one of the boots with both hands, and made a grimace as she caught the scent of it. Then Thorin watched as she carried it under her tent, placing it sideways on the ground, before rushing back for the other and doing the same.

He watched, astonished, as she picked up more fallen twigs and began to layer them on top of the boots, as if making a bedroll for herself.

“She has been on her own for who knows how long, Master Dwarf,” Gandalf spoke up beside Thorin. “She has probably been on this earth for twelve years, give or take a few. She has learned basic survival skills.”

“She has not told you anything?”

“Not a word, nor do I think she wants to.” Thorin just watched as she sat down on top of the sticks, and watched the fire. “Elves do not sleep, Thorin. They simply meditate whenever they feel the need to rest.” But he had yet to see her do any such thing, sleep or meditation. He just let out a sigh before he closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

Nearly a week later, the routine persisted. She did not sleep. But she used his boots to build a platform to keep herself off of the wet ground as she waited for everyone to rest. Thorin was on his night watch duties when he felt small arms close around his leg. She was small, sure, but even on him she reached almost to his waist.

But her grip was tight and as he glanced down at her, and then to Dwalin who was just as surprised, he heard the sniffling coming from her.

“What’s she doing?” Dwalin asked.

“Crying? I’ve no idea.” Thorin pulled some of her wet hair out of her eyes and she looked up at him, her lip between her teeth. “What’s wrong?”

She said something Thorin didn’t understand, the first time she had ever spoken to him. And Thorin glanced to Dwalin at a loss.

“Hell if I knew what to do,” Dwalin shrugged. So Thorin let out a small sigh.

“I’ll be a minute. Take her back to Gandalf.”

“Sure.” Thorin picked her up, finding that she didn’t weigh much either, and carried her towards where the wizard was sitting on a fallen log, his hat looking pathetic in all of this water.

“She came up to me and said..” Thorin wasn’t sure on the pronunciation but once the word was out, Gandalf raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“She has told you, Thorin Oakenshield, that she had a nightmare. And she wished to make sure you were alright.”

“Elves do not sleep.”

“It does not mean they can’t have dreams or visions.” Thorin glanced to the girl uneasily. “She also stated that her name was Kingsfoil.” But that news seemed to please Gandalf less. “Which is unusual. Elves are not normally named such insignificant things. To be named after a weed is like naming you after a battle ram.”

A disgrace. He had not heard of elves feeling disgrace for their children. They were cherished much like dwarven ones were. “What does this mean?”

“It means that she is coming to you for comfort.”

Thorin glanced to the girl still in his arms, snuggling into the warmth of Thorin’s fur lined coat. The inside was relatively dry, and she seemed to have snaked part of her body into it. “I have told you, I am not caring for an elf.”

“You don’t seem to have a choice.”

“Then tell her I’m fine and she’ll go back to her spot under the blanket.” Gandalf translated the words and the girl just burrowed herself deeper into Thorin’s chest.

“She doesn’t seem to want to leave you alone. Why don’t you get some rest? I will take your spot on watch.” Thorin was not given a chance to protest and he sighed in frustration before moving to the bedroll  that he needed to unroll. “You need to get down so I can make my bed,” Thorin said stiffly.

The girl didn't move. Oh for Mahal’s sake - “Kingsfoil, you need to let go of me so I can make my bed.” At the sound of her name, her had popped up and she stared at him a moment before sliding down from his arms, waiting patiently as he pulled his bedroll from his sack and spread it out. Thinking she had gone to her cozy, he laid down and closed his eyes.

She was laying down beside him a second later, tugging at the fur lined coat so that it covered her wet form. Thorin sighed, more out of defeat than anything, and turned onto his side, before he swept the side of the coat up and covered her with it like it was a blanket. Her tiny hands gripped the fur, pulling it closer, and her eyes closed. She looked as though she was sleeping, except for the fact that she did not move at all.

When they reached Rivendell, she had attempted to learn the Common Tongue with the help of Gandalf, who rode beside Thorin. She refused to leave Thorin’s side after her nightmare or vision. Instead, she was always within arm’s reach. She could say a few things, like their names, request food or to rest or the bathroom. But she hardly made such demands. She just liked listening to Thorin talk about Erebor.

Lord Elrond seemed surprised to find an elf in their company, yet seemed to trust how she came upon them. Gandalf had discovered her by a river while washing up. “Kingsfoil,” Lord Elrond murmured. “She is much too happy and bright to be disgraced in such a way. She must have been raised by someone other than elves. The methods you describe her using to survive are not what any elf would know. An elf will ride through rain at night, not stop. Only men would set up camp with tents. Not even dwarves use such a luxury. Yet her knowledge of Sindarin is … unusual if she were raised by men.” Thorin shifted slightly, waiting for a point in all this. “We will take her in, give her an elven name, and raise her with the ways of her people.”

It was a relief. Thorin did not think she would survive a trek through the Misty Mountains, especially in the dead of winter as it was.

As Thorin and the Company were beginning to leave, she appeared out of nowhere, Lord Elrond not far behind with a stern look on his face. But it was not aimed at the Company.

“She knew you would be here,” Lord Elrond spoke as he lifted the girl from the ground so that she would not follow them. “She insists that you cannot leave, or you will not end this quest successfully.”

Thorin glanced to the little girl, and her wide eyes were full of nothing but earnest fear. She said something, and Lord Elrond translated.

“She wishes for you to come back if you are successful, and get her.”

Thorin’s words were soft, but he knew that Lord Elrond heard. Khuzdul for the girl that would not understand it. He promised. And then he turned with his Company, heading up the path to the mountains, not looking back as the girl began to cry and call his name. Never looking back, never returning.


End file.
